Secret Men's Business
by LouBlue
Summary: Nick/Monroe/Hank. A friend in need is a friend indeed and Nick is about to find out just how that true is, when he answers a call for help from Monroe. Nothing is ever easy when you're a Grimm... or the partner of a Grimm.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N****: So, in the middle of doing my other Grimm fic, I wanted to get this little bit of fluff out of my head. I'm a huge fan of bromances and I really love the chemistry Nick, Monroe and Hank have on screen. With that in mind, I let my mind wander a little bit about what a typical evening with the three of them would be like. **

**Here's a hint... it's not going to be that typical. ;) **

**Hope you enjoy... **

**Secret Men's Business**

**Chapter One**

It was noise of something gently creaking which first caught Nick's attention. He stopped walking and looked around. It was just gone seven o'clock at night and the forested area was strangely eerie. It was easy to imagine dozens of animal eyes peering out at him and sizing him up. Nick cocked his head, listening intently. The creaking sound came again. "Monroe!" he called out, unsure what he was hearing. "Is that you?"

"Nick!" The sound of his friend's relieved voice came to him. "Yes, it's me, I'm over here."

Monroe's phone call had been rather vague. He was just off the east walking path in the national park and he needed Nick to come out and get him. The woods weren't far from Munroe's house, so Nick wasn't sure why he needed to be picked up. He'd said he was fine, but just that he needed Nick to come and get him. "Keep talking!"

"You took your time," said Monroe, managing to comply and complain at the same time.

Nick followed the sound of his voice, heading off the track and into the more heavily wooded area. "You said it wasn't an emergency."

"I know, but I didn't think you were going to stop and smell the roses along the way."

"You're pretty cranky for a guy I'm doing a favour for," Nick commented as he stepped into a small clearing. He stopped short at the surprising sight in front of him. Munroe was hanging upside down in a tree, swinging gently from side to side in the breeze, his foot caught in some kind of noose. "What are you doing?" Nick exclaimed in shock.

Monroe looked at him, his face pink from being upside down for who knew how long. "I'm solving that pesky cold fusion problem," he said straight-faced. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Nick shook his head and hurried over to help him. "You said you were fine."

"I am fine. I'm just the wrong way up."

Nick looked the situation over. "How did this happen?"

"Is there any chance we can leave the explanations for when, oh, I don't know, my head isn't about to explode?" asked Monroe calmly.

"Oh, sure, yeah, sorry." Nick spotted where the other end of the rope was tied around the tree and hurried over to it. "Hang on."

"Was that meant to be a joke?"

"No," said Nick quickly, "I just meant hang on."

"To what?"

"Good point. In that case, brace yourself."

"Don't drop me."

Nick started to loosen the knot. "I'm not going to drop you."

"Because I'm a long way off the ground."

"It's only about five feet, but it's alright, I'm not going to drop you."

"Good, because I don't want to get dropped."

Nick pulled on another loop in the rope and it unexpectedly gave way. He grimaced as Monroe abruptly plummeted to the ground.

Munroe landed on a heap in the ground, making a pain-filled grunt as he did. He lay there, not moving and looking up at the night sky. "You dropped me," he announced flatly after a moment of tense silence.

Nick was swiftly by his side and bending over him, an apologetic look on his face. "My bad. I wasn't expecting the knot to come undone like that."

Monroe's expression didn't change. "Yeah, it's always unexpected when you're undoing a knot and it becomes undone."

"Sorry." Nick went to help him up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine." Monroe attempted to stand up but promptly staggered into Nick and the two men crashed to the ground. Monroe landed on top of Nick and looked to be trying to focus. "Although a case could be made that I'm a little dizzy."

Nick pushed on his shoulders, trying to get the large man off him. "How long were you hanging upside down for?"

"I don't know, maybe an hour."

Nick was having difficulty getting Monroe off him as they wrestled a bit. "Can you please at least help?" he asked in frustration.

"I am helping," protested Monroe as he wiggled on top of him. "My brain isn't telling my body the right thing. I've got too much blood around my brain." He stopped abruptly and pulled back, a concerned look on his face. "Dude, what is _that_?"

"It's my gun," said Nick in exasperation. "Don't flatter yourself, you're not my type."

"Oh," said Monroe, looking relieved. "I just know things are still rough with you and Juliette and I thought you might be at the 'any port in a storm' point of it all."

"Trust me, there will never be a storm bad enough to make me dock at that particular port," he grunted and then gave a really hard push on Monroe's shoulders and rolled him.

Monroe was on his back and looking up at the sky again. "Thanks, man, that was starting to get awkward."

"Starting?" repeated Nick, rolling his eyes. He bent over him. "Can you walk?"

"Sure, I'm good now." Monroe stood up and attempted to walk. He staggered to one side and promptly fell in a heap on the ground.

Nick watched him and shook his head. "Let me rephrase that, can you walk?"

"I'm still a little dizzy," confessed Monroe, face in the dirt.

Nick walked over to him. "Here, let me help." He pulled on Monroe's arm to help him up and then put that arm around his shoulders. "Lean on me." Nick shot him a quick, teasing look. "And in case you get the wrong idea again, this doesn't mean we're going steady."

"You bet it doesn't, you didn't even buy me dinner."

Nick helped steer Monroe back onto the path and then they were walking back to his house. "So, are you going to tell me what happened tonight?"

"It's a good night for picking mushrooms," explained Monroe as he wobbled next to Nick. He turned and looked at him. "You've cut yourself shaving."

Nick's free hand touched the little cut on his jaw, feeling the line of dry blood. "I know, stupid thing won't stop bleeding." Monroe was just staring at the cut. Nick nudged him. "Mushrooms?"

Monroe shook his head and blinked as they continued walking. "Yeah, mushrooms. Anyway, I was hunting for mushrooms-" he tilted his head. "I wonder why they always call it hunting for mushrooms? I mean, they're a fungus, you don't get much more stationary then that. It's not really a hunt, more of a hide and seek, if anything, and they don't really hide so much as-"

Nick snapped his fingers at him. "Focus, Monroe, you're babbling."

"I'm not babbling," said Monroe indignantly. "It's called free-flow thinking."

"It's called not getting to the point," said Nick in vague vexation as he kept them both on the path.

Monroe looked offended. "You know, sometimes you stifle my inner poet, man."

"I can live with that. Mushrooms."

"So, I was hunting for mushrooms and then I got a whiff of something."

"What kind of something?" Since learning he was a Grimm, Nick had learnt that whiffs of things were usually bad news.

"Poachers sometimes come out into these woods and lay own these pheromones to attract the wolves. I got a nose full of that."

Nick sent him a quick look. "Is that bad? What does it do to you?"

Monroe shrugged a little. "It just makes me a little frisky," he hedged.

"And by frisky, you mean what exactly?"

"It gives you a rush of adrenaline, affects the cerebral cortex of a Blutbad. Call it a surge of youthful enthusiasm. I just took off running." He pulled a face. "At least until I stood in that trap."

"And that's where I come in."

"See, I told you, it's no big deal."

They were just walking out of the forest now and Nick could see Monroe's house down the street. "And you're sure there aren't any lingering effects of this hunter's pheromones on you?"

"No," said Monroe as they walked up the street and came to his house, "I think the hanging upside down for so long cleared my head." They were just passing by his side yard when he stopped abruptly and peered into the darkness of his back yard. At least as much as you could see from where they were. "Did you hear that?"

Nick listened intently. "Hear what?"

"That damn squirrel is back in my black walnut tree," said Monroe in agitation. "Listen to him, he's shoving my nuts into his cheek pouches like there is no tomorrow."

Nick grimaced. "I can't hear anything, I'm sure you're imagining it."

Monroe wasn't convinced. He pulled away from Nick's support and went to storm off into his backyard to confront the supposedly thieving squirrel. Unfortunately, Monroe was still not co-ordinated enough to be able to control a sudden movement like that, and he went to topple forwards again. Nick reacted quickly and grabbed Monroe around the waist from behind and used his weight as a counter-balance, preventing Monroe from falling to the ground yet again that night.

Monroe was oblivious to Nick's help, still fixated on the squirrel as his arms flailed around in aggravation. "Get your filthy hands off my nuts, you little bastard!" Monroe yelled into the darkness of his backyard.

A middle-aged couple were out walking across the street and they cast a wary look at the two of them, taking in the way Nick was hugging Monroe from behind as the other man flapped about, leaning over at an angle and shouting about his nuts.

"It's not what it looks like," said Nick hastily and then cursed himself internally. Every time someone said that, it meant it was exactly what it looked like. "I'm a police officer," he offered up feebly by way of reassurance but that only made the couple scurry off, looking more worried. "Not the kind of PR the Portland police department is looking for, Nick," he chastised himself. "Monroe, stop it!" He pulled Monroe upright. Nick grabbed his arm again and put it over his shoulders. "Stop with the crazy." He gave him a worried look. "Are you sure you're not being affected by those pheromones?"

"Nah," said Monroe, casting an annoyed look at the dark silhouette of his walnut tree as Nick helped him up the stairs of his house, "that squirrel and I have had this thing going on for months. I keep trying to catch him so I can release him back into the woods, but the damn thing just ruins all of my traps."

Nick couldn't help himself. "So, what you're telling me is that you have a nemesis," he observed, just managing to keep a straight face, "and it's a _squirrel_?"

"Squirrels are nature's proctologists," grumbled Monroe. "Always ready to give you the finger."

"I'm sure that made more sense in your head," noted Nick unevenly. They were at Monroe's front door now. "Do you have your keys?"

Monroe leant on him more heavily as he patted down his pockets. "Oh, shoot, they must have fallen out of my pocket when I was hanging."

Nick was looking around. "Do you have a spare set out here anywhere- HHEEYYY!" He made a stricken sound and leapt back, leaving Monroe to fend for himself. Nick scrubbed at his jaw. "You just licked me!"

Monroe was looking at him like he was insane. "What?"

"You just licked my jaw," said Nick in agitation. The memory of Monroe's hot, wet tongue running along his face made him give a little shudder.

"No, I didn't," protested Monroe hotly.

"I think I know when I've been licked," threw back Nick, still rubbing at his jaw.

"Well, don't you think I'd know if I was licking someone?" threw back Monroe.

"Evidently not," snapped Nick. "What the hell was that?" A worrying thought just occurred to him. "Is this more surging of your youthful enthusiasm? Because, I'm telling you right now, I'm _not_ cool with your youthful enthusiasm involving tongue and any part of my body!"

"I licked you?" asked Monroe, looking upset.

"Yes!"

Monroe held up his hands in a placating manner. "Nick, I'm so sorry." He was suddenly looking worried, which didn't make Nick feel good. "Okay, dude, cards on the table," said Monroe hastily, "we _may_ have a problem here."

Nick's shoulders sagged and he blew out a resigned breath. "Of course we do," he said flatly.

This was just how his life was now...

**A/N****: Hope you're having some fun with this fic, I know I am. ;) **

**Hank gets roped into the downward spiral of this evening in the next chapter. I really hope you'll check it out... although, just a warning, I have kind of a quirky sense of humour, so you may want to brace yourself. Let's just say that it'd be unlikely that the censures at NBC would let some of the things which will happen in the next chapter end up on the show. LOL Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N****: Thanks everyone who commented on my first chapter. I'm glad you're all enjoying it. The fun continues in this chapter and in typical fashion, I'll need another chapter to get this bad boy done. **

**Hope you enjoy all the bromancing. ;) And thanks again for reading. :D **

**Chapter Two**

Nick opened the door and smiled in relief. "Thanks for coming, Hank."

"I get a call from my partner in the middle of the night about some kind of mysterious going ons in the woods and you know I've got questions." Hank walked past him into the house.

"Sorry to be so vague," said Nick as he closed the door. "I didn't want to go over it on the phone."

"Worried I wouldn't come?"

Nick grimaced. "The thought had occurred." He swept a hand towards the kitchen. "He's in here."

They walked into the kitchen to find Monroe sitting at the kitchen table, his chair side on to the table. "Oh hey, Hank," he greeted him casually. Monroe looked between them. "I guess the Scooby gang is on the case, huh?"

Hank arched an eyebrow. "You do realise there wasn't a lot of skin colour variation going on with that particular team, right?"

"Scooby was brown," pointed out Monroe.

"I'm not Scooby," said Hank flatly. "If anyone's Scooby, it's you."

"Why, because I'm a Blutbad?" asked Monroe indignantly.

"Got it in one."

Monroe pouted. "Blutbad's aren't dogs."

"They're closer than humans," shot back Hank.

"Alright, fine, you can be Fred."

Nick held up a hand. "Wouldn't I be Fred?"

"Velma," replied Monroe and Hank as one.

"Velma?" repeated Nick, caught off guard. "Why am I Velma?"

"Because you're the shortest," reasoned Hank.

Monroe wiggled a finger at his head. "And you've got the floppy hair."

Nick scowled at them both. "I don't have floppy hair and I'm 5 11', that's not short."

"We didn't say you were short," said Monroe reasonably, "we said you were the shortest of the three of us."

"It's not my fault that you two are abnormally tall," said Nick in annoyance. He shook his head. "Okay, enough, let's circle the wagons here and get this back on track. We've got a problem here and we need to work out how to fix it."

Monroe looked at Hank, his tone conspiratorial. "That's soo what Velma would say." Hank's lips twitched.

Nick gave them a look of ire. "My desire to help you out of this predicament is rapidly fading, Monroe."

"Sorry, man," said Monroe, feigning chagrin as he started to tap his fingers on the table.

"And what are we helping Monroe with exactly?" asked Hank, looking between the two men.

"Monroe's come in contact with some kind of pheromone which is stirring things up in him," explained Nick.

Hank sent Monroe a wary look. "Wolf-like things?"

Monroe's right leg was beginning to jiggle up and down with nervous energy. "Yeah, but you know, I've been thinking about it, Nick, and I don't think I'm all that affected." The jiggling of his knee was becoming more violent. A fact which Monroe seemed oblivious to. "I've been vegan for a lot of years now. That blood lust is complete history to me."

Hank looked worried. "Blood lust?"

Monroe looked up at him, his leg jiggling so badly now it almost looked like it had a mind of his own. "Maybe a lesser Blutbad would be feeling the side effects the pheromones, but I've worked really hard to achieve this Zen-like state." His leg was bouncing around uncontrollably, fingers drumming a noisy pattern on the table top.

"I think your Zen needs a little top off," noted Hank sceptically.

"What do you mean?" asked Monroe innocently.

Nick pointed to his leg. "I think Hank means that."

Monroe looked down at his leg and his face registered surprise at seeing the wayward limb. He slapped his hand down over the top of it to stop the jerky movements. Monroe gave a strained smile. "But then again, it never hurts to be safe rather than sorry."

"Okay," said Hank slowly. "So, what's the deal here? What do we do to fix this?"

"There's a neutralising agent to the pheromone," explained Monroe.

"Great," said Hank, "let's go and get it."

Nick moved a little restlessly. "It's not that easy."

Hank grimaced. "It never is. What's the problem?"

Monroe's hand was tapping again. "The neutralising agent is a really specific one. You can only get it from one person here in Portland and that's the Luder."

"The Luder?" repeated Hank.

"She's an old woman who lives out on the edge of town," Nick filled in. "I have to go to her and get the antidote."

"Why does it have to be you?"

Monroe made a face. "The Luder isn't a fan of Blutbads."

"Why isn't she a fan of Blutbads?"

"One of us may or may not have eaten her husband," admitted Monroe. He wrinkled his nose. "And her foot."

"You ate her husband and foot?" asked Hank in horror.

"Not me, man," said Monroe defensively. "It was way before my time but the Luder, she holds a grudge. She wouldn't spit on one of us if we were on fire."

Nick picked up the story. "But apparently she likes Grimms."

Monroe nodded eagerly. "She loves Grimms because they kill Blutbads and bits of them are useful to her in her work."

Nick looked at him askew. This was news to him. "Excuse me? Which bits?"

Monroe shrugged. "You know, the Luder is into all the old medicines."

"Like what you and Rosalee do in the Spice shop?" Nick quizzed him.

Monroe pursed his lips. "Not exactly. The Luder dabbles in some of the blacker arts. It's a 'where angels fear to tread' kinda deal."

Hank looked concerned. "Can we trust her?"

Monroe threw his head back and laughed. "No." He became abruptly solemn. "Seriously, dude, don't trust her. She's a big ol' bag of cats crazy."

"Then why am I going to her for help if she's so insane?" asked Nick, brow wrinkling with worry.

"She's got the only supply of iberis root in town," explained Monroe. "And that's the neutralising agent we need."

"And you still haven't said what bits of a Grimm she's interested in," Nick prompted him. He'd do a lot for a friend, but he wasn't about to start leaving body parts all over town.

"Elements of Grimms have mystical powers when it comes to some of the dark arts." Monroe was fidgeting in his seat. "You know, a lock of hair, a fingernail, a puff of breath, that kind of stuff."

Hank pulled a face. "Can she use these things to hurt people?"

"That's really not what the Luder is about," clarified Monroe. "It's more that a lot of Wesen come to her for in-house problems."

Hank and Nick shared a look. "Such as?" Nick queried.

Monroe stood up and started to pace, clearly becoming more agitated with all of the questions. "I don't know, like a Klaustreich needing a love potion or a Stangebär looking for a way to make their quills poisonous, or a Hundjäger looking for a revivication spell." He waved his hands around. "You know, stuff."

"Revivication?" repeated Hank. "What's that?"

"You know, raising the dead." Monroe looked nervous. "It's not recommended. Those things never go well."

"She can do that?" asked Hank in horror.

"I don't know if the Luder can do that, but I know her kind have in the past." Monroe was kind of jiggling on the spot now, becoming more animated. "Cute fact, you know that whole little Red Riding Hood story which gets handed around?"

Nick was watching Monroe with concern, as he was clearly becoming more overtaken by the affects of the pheromones.

Monroe seemed oblivious to the way both Hank and Nick were looking at him as he continued with his story. "Well, the truth of it is that, back in the day, little Red had gone to someone like the Luder and gotten herself a revivication potion for her recently deceased Grandmother. Only, turns out, newly re-animated Grandma had lost some social graces with the whole being dead thing. An innocent Blutbad turns up at her door, looking for directions and Grandma tries to eat his face off. He reacts in self-defence and then some Grimm bursts in, gets the wrong idea and hacks the poor guy to pieces." Monroe scratched absently at his face. "It's why we Blutbads don't like to ask for directions as a rule. Kind of a cultural thing."

Hank was looking more than sceptical. "So, you're telling me the little Red Riding Hood story actually happened, but the bad guy was Grandma and the wolf was the innocent victim?"

"Hey, man," said Monroe, starting to scratch himself all over now, "history is written by the winners. Of course the Grimm was going to make the Blutbad into the bad guy."

"And that's what constitutes a cute story in your book?" asked Hank in disbelief. "Zombies and dismemberment?"

"One of the definitions of cute is ugly but interesting," Monroe defended his story. "That fits." He looked at Nick. "So, are you going to do this little favour for me or not? I've got things I wanted to do tonight, like fix another squirrel trap."

"I'm going to do it," said Nick quickly. "I just like to know what I'm walking into."

"It's nothing," said Monroe dismissively. "The Luder is a tiny little old woman. You'll be fine."

Nick looked at Hank. "And you'll be okay keeping an eye on Monroe."

Hank looked at the way Monroe was starting to sweat, eyes darting back and forward nervously as he danced from foot to foot. "Oh yeah, this looks like it's got all the ingredients of a fun evening."

"Okay, so, we're good to go then." Monroe turned to Nick with some final words of advice. "The Luder always wants something in return for her help. Just give her whatever she wants." Monroe stopped pacing and waggled a finger at him. "But not your blood. You can't ever give her any of your blood. You can do some really powerful black magic with blood from a Grimm, so you can't ever do that, okay? It's really important you remember that."

"Let's see," said Nick mockingly, "it'll be a struggle, but I guess I can remember not to give the insane, old woman living in a hut in the forest any of my blood. Obviously it's going to go against that instinct I have to give it away by the bucket load."

Monroe sighed. "I haven't had a bucket load of blood in so long." He looked suddenly nostalgic. "There used to be this place out on Route 30, you could get a bucket of blood and plate of onion rings that were to die for."

Hank made a disgusted face. "I could have gone my whole life and never known that and died a happy man."

Nick frowned. "What kind of blood are we talking here? Human?"

"Look, we don't have time for this," said Monroe impatiently. "Stop being delicious and go and get the antidote."

Nick's eyebrow shot up. "Delicious?"

Monroe looked at him blankly. "What?"

"You said I was being delicious."

"No, I didn't. I said stop being difficult."

"No, you didn't. You definitely said delicious."

Monroe looked worried. "I did?"

"You did."

He nervously scratched his stomach. "The effects of the pheromones must be spreading."

"We assumed," said Hank, looking him over.

To Nick he looked like a junkie jonesing for his next fix. "Are you sure you're going to be okay with this?" he asked Hank.

"I'm a trained professional police officer," said Hank calmly. "If it gets bad, I'll shoot him."

"What?" squeaked Monroe.

"I was kidding," Hank said and then turned back to Nick and gave him a look which said he wasn't kidding.

This didn't make Nick feel any less anxious about the situation. "Okay, no one is going to be shooting anyone because I'm going to get the cure now and then everything is going to be fine. You just have to hang out for an hour, stay calm and I'll be back. Can you do that?"

"_I_ can," said Hank, giving Monroe a pointed look.

Monroe's head was bobbing up and down. "Yeah, yeah, totally, dude, Hank and I'll spend some time getting to know each other a little better. It'll be great." He gave Nick an emotional look. "Thanks for doing this, man," said Monroe gratefully. He engulfed Nick in a hug.

Nick patted him on the back a little awkwardly. "It's fine. That's what friends do." Monroe wasn't letting him go, still holding onto him tightly. The sound of sniffing was in Nick's ear and he tensed. "If you lick me again," he warned Monroe hotly, "I'm shooting you in the foot."

Monroe abruptly let go and took a quick step back. "I wasn't going to lick you."

"There's licking now?" asked Hank in distress. "No one mentioned licking." He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Always read the small print before signing on the dotted line, Hank, always read the small print."

"There is going to be no licking, shooting or anything else bad happening tonight," said Nick, trying to sound more confident then he felt. "I'm going now, you two, play nicely together and I'll be back before you know it." With a last encouraging smile at the other two men, Nick hurried out the door, heading to his car. He had the address Monroe had given him and knew how to get there. Nick cast a concerned look at Monroe's house before he climbed into the car. This was going to be fine. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Nick quickly put his car in gear and drove away before he could answer his own question.

The lull before the storm...


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N****: Thank you to everyone who left me such wonderful comments for this fic. I've had such fun reading them, so thank you again. :D **

**I said this would be the last chapter, but it took me longer to set up the Luder stuff (Luder is German for minx, for those playing at home ;) ), so there is still one chapter to come. **

**Hope you enjoy...**

**Chapter Three**

Nick pulled up in front of the rickety old house and cut the engine of his car. He peered out through his windscreen at the little wooden house which seemed to have a bit of a lean to it. The house backed onto the woods and was the only building at the end of a very long lane. There were no neighbours within at least a mile. Not exactly a comforting thought. Nick climbed out of the car and instinctively put his hand to his gun to just check it was secure. He wasn't planning on needing it tonight, but then, nothing had really gone to plan so far. Nick opened the creaking, metal gate and stepped into the front yard of the run down property. Trees littered the front yard, with multiple dark shapes hanging from different limbs. He glanced at them as he quickly walked up to the front door. Some were dead animals, others were just bones and still others had bags hanging from a string. It was everything a witch's garden should have and was the appropriate level of creepiness.

Nick walked onto the porch and tried to ignore the wind chimes hanging nearby made up of what looked like human finger bones. He knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he knocked again. "Hello? Is there anyone home?" Nick could see the light shining through the side window, so he knew there was. The sound of shuffling came from the other side of the door and then locks being undone. Finally, the door opened and the occupant of the house was revealed. Nick tried not to register shock at his first sight of the Luder. Monroe had been right, she was very small. In fact, the woman could barely have been more than five feet tall. She'd probably be taller if she'd been able to stand up straight, but the huge hump in her back made that impossible. She was a little on the portly side and her dress barely contained the rolls and billows of her form. The Luder sported wild grey hair which stuck out from her head at odd angles, making her look particular mad. A huge brown mole with grey hair sprouting out of it sat above one eyebrow, making it hard to look away from. She was leaning heavily on a cane as she stood in front of him. The woman looked like she could be anywhere between fifty and a hundred years old.

The Luder looked him over. "Are you going to say something, or do we just stare at each other all night?" she asked flatly.

Nick blinked a couple of times. "Oh, sorry, I-ah, I'm looking for the Luder."

She arched an eyebrow, the one with the oversized, hairy mole. "You found her."

Nick cleared his throat and attempted to regain his composure. "I'm told you may be able to help me with something."

"Is that what you were told?" she asked coolly. "I wonder what could be so important that a Grimm would turn up on my doorstep, in the middle of the night, looking for a favour."

Nick frowned. "You know I'm a Grimm?"

Her weather-beaten face turned up in a facsimile of a knowing smile. "The Luder knows a lot of things, sweet cheeks."

Nick shifted his weight. "Okay, then yes, but it's not a favour, I'm willing to pay you."

Her almost black eyes registered a flare of interest. "Well, in that case, you'd better come in." The Luder shuffled back so Nick could step through into the house.

His senses were immediately assailed with a litany of smells, all of which were hard to identify. They just made a huge, confusing conglomerate that Nick knew instinctively he probably didn't want to know about. There were smells of spices, incense, something burning and a whole lot else as he followed the old woman down the hallway. He looked down at the threadbare carpet, unable to see much of his surrounding as the entire house was only lit by candles and lamps. It occurred to Nick that this place probably didn't even have electricity. It was like the house and its occupant fell out of a gothic fairy tale and the modern world need not apply. The whole atmosphere of the house was claustrophobic as she led him into what looked like her living room. Every available surface had bits and pieces on it. There were stuffed animals dotted around the place, along with animal pelts in varying degrees of being skinned. Bottles of all shapes and sizes lined the walls and shelves, all filled with strange odds and ends. One bottle Nick passed looked like it was filled with crickets, another, with something that looked like fur balls.

"Sit," she ordered him and poked her cane at a sofa chair.

Nick eyed the thing gingerly. The floral material was badly faded and worn off in some areas. It also looked like something had been regularly chewing at it, exposing stuffing and padding. The seat of the chair had a semi-exposed spring in it and Nick carefully lowered himself into the chair, not wanting to impale himself. The Luder hobbled up to him and shoved her face in his, now that they were the same height. Nick recoiled a little as she noisily started to sniff at him, all around his face and chest.

She glared at him. "You stink of Blutbad," the Luder said in disgust and promptly spat on the floor next to Nick's foot.

Nick edged his foot away from the bubbling glob of spit soaking into the carpet. "I'm a Grimm," he threw back at her, "what do you expect?" He tried to apply a little psychology to the situation to get her onside. "It's in my job description to kill Blutbads."

The Luder snorted. "I expect the truth from the people I do business with. I smell no Blutbad blood on you."

"He got away," Nick lied.

She gave him a sceptical look. "Is that right?"

Nick's head came up as he held her gaze defiantly. "Yeah, that's right."

"So, what do you want from me, Grimm?"

"Iberis root."

Her expression didn't change. "And what would you be wanting that for?"

"I don't believe that's any of your business."

Her eyes narrowed. "It wouldn't be to help out your Blutbad boyfriend, would it?"

Nick's eyes went wide. "What?"

"Every Wesen in a hundred mile radius knows you and that Monroe creature are joined at the hip."

Nick was a little taken aback. "They do?"

Her lips curled in distaste. "What a Grimm is doing falling for a Wesen, I'll never know and a Blutbad, no less." The Luder spat on the floor again to mark her displeasure.

"Will you stop doing that!" said Nick in agitation. "And people think Monroe and I are gay?" This was unbelievable. "We're just friends."

"Good enough friends that you'd brave coming to see me," she challenged him.

"Yes," said Nick, glaring at her in defiance. "I look after my friends." His expression hardened. "Maybe you should remember that because I'm not as friendly with people who piss me off."

The Luder threw her head back and gave a hearty cackle. "Look at the little Grimm, threatening me of all people." She jabbed a finger at him. "You don't scare me. Cut my head off and I'll just grow another one."

Nick had no way of knowing if that was true, but he didn't want to find out. "Look, I'm not here for trouble."

"No, just iberis root to stop your little pet from going feral on you," she shot back at him.

Nick's jaw hardened. "Are you going to help me or not, because if you're not, I'd say we're done here." He went to stand up but the Luder pushed him back down with her cane at his chest.

"I didn't say I wasn't going to help," she muttered. "I just need to know if it's going to be worth my while."

"I told you I can pay."

"I'll decide that," the Luder said snippily. She grabbed Nick's hand and held it to her face, sniffing it all over, her expression intent. Suddenly, she licked all along Nick's palm, her tongue strangely rough, like a cats.

Nick jerked his hand away. "Hey!"

The Luder had a satisfied look in her eye. "You're strong," she said approvingly. "Lots of powerful forces inside of you." The Luder nodded. "We can do business." She hobbled to a chair across from him. "This night not turning out how you expected, eh, Grimm?" she guessed.

Nick wiped his hand on his pant leg and pulled a face. "Let's just say there's been a whole lot more licking then I'd originally planned for," he said unhappily.

The Luder heaved herself down into the chair across from him and as she did, her right foot promptly fell off.

Nick tried not to stare. "Um-ah, your foot, it's-umm, come loose." He gave an awkward smile. "Do you want a hand?"

She just stared at him impassively. "Why would I want a hand if my foot came off? Wouldn't I be in more need of a foot?"

"I meant a hand with putting your foot back on," said Nick defensively. "Your prosthesis." Just as he said that, the Luder's other foot fell to the floor with a plunking sound. Nick's eyes went wide. "Your other foot," he said in horror.

"What about it?"

"It's-it's come off too," he said unevenly.

The Luder seemed very casual about the whole thing. "I know, I'm not blind, just feetless."

"Blutbad's bit both your feet off?" asked Nick in distress. This was going to be a harder sell than he'd first feared.

"Nope, lost the other one to diabetes." The Luder gave a philosophical shrug. "I guess if you live on a diet of twinkies, cola and Reece bars for twenty years, something is bound to fall off you sooner or later."

Nick wasn't exactly sure what to say to that. "I-ah, yes, I guess so."

"Give me a minute," she instructed him and then bent over, strapping her prosthetic feet back on.

Nick sat back in his chair, politely looking away and was rewarded with a jab in the back from another loose spring. He guessed this was his life now, spending his Saturday nights watching a witch put her feet back on, while trying to get something to stop one friend from eating another. It was one of the more depressing thoughts he'd had so far that night.

The Luder straightened up and then clapped her hands, rubbing them together gleefully. A little too gleefully for Nick's liking. "So," she said happily, wizened face lighting up as she looked him over, "shall we do a little business now, or what?"

Some little voice in the back of Nick's voice was screaming at him this was a bad idea. He ignored it. "Yes, let's get this done."

A decision he'd come to regret before the evening was over.

**A/N****: Next, we check on Monroe and Hank and see how they're going... hint, not great. ;) **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N****: Hi guys, sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. **

**This chapter just went on and on and yes, I've had to split it again. So, there will be one more chapter to go. I've already written it (mostly), so I should be able to put it up tomorrow. **

**Thank you to everyone who's been kind enough to read and review. I truly appreciate the support. :D I must confess to not being wildly happy about this chapter. It just didn't come together like I hoped, so, it's annoying me a bit. But, I've learnt to let these things go and just move on. I'm posting the chapter and asking folks to be kind as we move onto the final chapter after this. . I really struggled to know how to end it, as you'll undoubtedly notice. **

**And for D Squirrel, this chapter is why I laughed when I saw your name, because I knew what I'd had planned. LOL And Ruth, I normally do write longer fics, but this one was only meant to be two chapters, so it's snowballed a bit already. ;) I do have another two parter Grimm fic I've written/am writing. The first part is Renard and Monroe as they deal with his obsession problem. I know Renard/Juliette don't seem to be popular, but I really wanted to investigate the relationship between the three of them as they deal with Adalind's spell in different ways and look at obsession vs love and then have Monroe in the middle of it all. Just mentioning it because that will be a longer fic. **

**Okay, enough carry on from me, let's get this chapter over and done with, hey? **

**Chapter Four**

Hank shook his head as he viewed the contents of Monroe's refrigerator. "Man, I don't know what half this stuff is." He pulled out a tube of what the label told him was tofu and looked it over. "You don't have any real food in your fridge." Monroe turned around to see Monroe wasn't listening to him. Instead, the other man had his face up against the kitchen window, peering out into his backyard. "Hey, Monroe, what are you doing?"

Monroe didn't turn around, just kept on fidgeting about as he stared out into his darkened yard. "That squirrel is in my walnut tree," he muttered, clearly agitated by the thought. "The little furry bastard."

Hank closed the refrigerator door and shrugged. "So, it's a big tree and one squirrel. What's a few nuts here and there?"

Monroe whipped around, eyes wide and manic looking. "Nobody touches my nuts!" he declared loudly.

Hank folded his arms in front of his chest and gave him a wry look. "I'm beginning to think that is your problem, man."

Monroe seemed to miss the humour in that statement as he went back to his squirrel spotting.

"You need to relax," declared Hank. "We'll turn on the TV, catch the end of the game."

"Yeah, yeah," he said Monroe distractedly, "sounds great."

"I've got to use your bathroom. Where is it, upstairs?"

Monroe waved a hand towards the door and nodded. "Top of the stairs, third door on your left."

Hank shook his head and headed off to find the bathroom. As he climbed the stairs, he remembered what it was like to be blissfully ignorant of this kind of generalise weirdness. The good old days where he wasn't side eyeing everyone wondering if some kind of creature lurked behind that human façade and he didn't spend his Saturday nights babysitting a wolf in hippy's clothing. Hank looked around at the house's decor and felt like he'd stepped back in time. The whole house had this weird vibe to it and all those clocks didn't help. It was like a museum for odd knick knacks and ticking clocks. It kind of suited its owner, which was probably the most unsettling thing about it for Hank. He liked Monroe, but he wasn't as comfortable with his Wesen-self as Nick seemed to be. It's one thing to call someone a monster, another thing completely actually seeing it with your own eyes. Hank understood that Monroe was living the clean life these days, but it didn't change the potential harm he could do with the thing that lived inside of him. He used the bathroom and headed back downstairs. Maybe tonight wasn't going to be so bad. After all, Nick was probably already at the old woman's house and getting that cure thing already. He walked into the kitchen and came to a dead halt, eyes going wide at the sight which confronted him. "What the?"

Monroe was sitting at the table. He looked up at him and smiled innocently. "Oh, hey man, did you find it alright?"

Hank couldn't answer as he took in the sight of a grey, fluffy tail sticking out of the kitchen sink and bits of fur and blood splattered all over the kitchen floor and table. "What happened here?" he squeaked.

Monroe looked at him blankly. "What do you mean?"

Hank could see Monroe had some grey fur stuck between his teeth as the other man smiled up at him. Hank made a horrified sound. "You ate the squirrel!"

Monroe frowned. "What? No, I didn't. What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact there is a partially eaten squirrel in your kitchen sink," said Hank in distress. He pointed at the sink.

Monroe looked where Hank was pointing and gave a little start, as though seeing the squirrel's body for the first time. "How did that get there?" he asked in genuine confusion.

"Gee, I don't know," said Hank sarcastically. "Why don't we ask the guy with squirrel caught in his teeth?"

Monroe's hand went to his teeth and he plucked out the sodden piece of fur and flesh. "I have no idea how that got there."

"This may just be my cop's gut talking," said Hank in agitation, "but I'm guessing it was when you were eating the live squirrel."

"But I don't remember doing that," protested Monroe. "You'd think I'd remember something like that."

Hank glanced over at the bloodied sink and grimaced. "I know I won't be forgetting it in a hurry."

A hopeful expression lit up Monroe's face. "Maybe there is another explanation?"

"You mean like the squirrel walked into your kitchen of its own free will, dismembered itself in your sink and then wedged a chunk of itself between your teeth?" bit out Hank. "You're right, that's probably exactly what happened."

"No need to get snippy, man."

"I'm talking to a guy who just ate a live squirrel, I'll get snippy if I want," threw back Hank. "That blood lust thing is getting a hold of you."

Monroe snorted. "Dude, please, I'm completely in control." He scratched noisily at his beard.

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation and Hank turned around to see who it was. Through the curtains in the window by the door, he could see Juliette. "Damn," he muttered, "it's Juliette, you're going to have to get rid of her." Hank turned back around to find Monroe hungrily licking at a little pool of blood on the table top. "Monroe, stop that!" he ordered him fiercely, keeping his voice low.

Monroe straightened up, a little trickle of blood caught in his beard. "Stop what?"

Hank made a frustrated sound. "You're licking up blood."

"No, I'm not."

"I'm getting pretty sick of having this conversation with you." Juliette knocked again. "And we don't have time for it. You need to get rid of Juliette."

Monroe blinked. "How? She knows I'm home, the lights are on."

Hank resisted the urge to point out that while Monroe's 'lights' might be on, there were definitely signs that no one was home. It was a waste of time. Right now he had to get Juliette out of this equation. "Go and talk to her, just don't let her in. Juliette doesn't need to see you in this state. She's already got enough questions."

Monroe jumped up. "Yeah, yeah, sure man, no problem." He hurried out of the kitchen to stand in front of the front door, while Hank made sure to stay out of view through the window. "Yes?" called out Monroe.

"Monroe, it's me, Juliette."

"Oh, hi, Juliette, how's it going?"

"Fine, I was just looking for Nick."

"He isn't here."

"Oh." There was a brief pause. "Um... are you going to open the door?"

"NO!"

Juliette sounded a little shocked by the force of Monroe's reply. "Oh, umm, okay."

"It's just that I'm-ah-I'm-" Monroe was clearly struggling to come up with a good reason. "I'm naked."

Hank closed his eyes and shook his head.

Juliette's tone sounded rightfully confused. "You're naked?"

Monroe looked a little panicked now as he scrambled around to answer that question. "It's-it's a family tradition. On the anniversary of my grandfather's death, the eldest grandchild has to spend the day naked."

Hank looked at Monroe in disbelief. Monroe made a helpless face and held up his hands, as he shrugged.

Juliette sounded cautious when she finally replied. "Oh, umm, okay then."

"It's a family thing," said Monroe weakly. "You understand, right?"

"Of course," said Juliette politely.

"Anyways, I haven't seen Nick all day." Monroe turned to Hank. "Have you seen Nick today, Hank?"

Hank eyes went wide as Monroe spoke to him. He mouthed the words 'what are you doing' loudly.

Monroe pulled a face and mouthed back 'sorry, dude'.

Now Juliette sounded really confused. "So, that is Hank's car parked across the road. I wasn't sure. Hank, are you in there?"

Hank threw up his hands as Monroe shot him an apologetic look. Hank cleared his throat and tried to sound nonchalant. "Oh hey, Juliette, how's things?"

"Fine, I guess," she replied hesitantly. "So, you're with Monroe tonight?"

"Aha," said Hank unevenly.

"Are you naked?" Juliette asked hesitantly.

"No," said Monroe quickly, "Of course not, that'd be weird."

"Oh sure," said Juliette unevenly, "that would be weird. It's a lot less weird when only one of you is naked."

"Hank was just returning my um, my screwdriver," lied Monroe.

"Your screwdriver?"

"Yes, he borrowed it last week and now he's returning it."

The scepticism was back in Juliette's voice. "On a Saturday night, while you're naked?"

"I was in the neighbourhood," said Hank weakly, knowing he was going to be getting some strange looks from Juliette after this. Well deserved ones. "You know, no time like the present."

"I guess," said Juliette slowly. "Well, umm, if you see Nick-"

"We'll tell him you're looking for him," finished off Monroe quickly.

"Okay, thanks and ahh, I'm sorry about your grandfather, Monroe."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

Hank blew out a relieved breath when he heard the sound of Juliette's retreating footsteps. He turned to glare at Monroe. "You're spending the day naked because it's the anniversary of your grandfather's death?" he declared in disgust. "Really?"

"I panicked, okay. I couldn't think of a reason not to let her in."

"You're a Blutbad, you spend your whole life living in half-truths and shadows," said Hank in annoyance. "How can you be so bad at lying?"

He moved his shoulders and gave a weak smile as he started to scratch at himself again, jiggling on the spot. "I don't know, man, it's never been my thing."

Hank shook his head in disgust. "Unbelievable." He took in the way Monroe was looking more uptight by the moment. "I'm going to go and clean dead squirrel out of your kitchen."

"I'll help," said Monroe brightly, taking a step towards him.

Monroe held up a hand to him. "I don't think so. You stay here." He stalked back into the kitchen, shaking his head. "Next time Nick asks for a favour, the answer is going to be no," he muttered to himself. On his way to the dispose of the squirrel, Hank trod in some of its blood, getting it all over his shoes. "Great," he grumbled, shaking his foot. Hank quickly wrapped the squirrel's body up in a couple of plastic bags and walked it out to the trash. He headed back out into the living room to find Monroe with his back to him, staring out the front window now. "Where do you keep your mop?" asked Hank.

Monroe didn't turn round, just tilted his head. "You've got blood on you."

Hank gave him a surprised look at Monroe's back. "How can you tell?"

There was the sound of sniffing. "I can smell it on you." Monroe turned around and that was when Hank saw the large knife he was holding in his hand.

Hank reacted without thinking, his cop instincts kicking in as he went for his gun. He levelled it at Monroe. "Put it down, Monroe," Hank ordered him sternly.

Monroe gave him a confused look. "Put what down?"

"The knife in your hand," bit out Hank, not taking his eyes off the other man.

Monroe held up his left hand and looked at it intently. "What knife?"

"Your other hand," ground out Hank, not sure if Monroe was playing with him or he really was this dissociated from his own body.

Monroe held up his right hand and looked at the large hunting knife he was holding. "Huh," he said, sounding perplexed, "how did that get there?"

"The blood lust it taking you over," said Hank sternly. "You need to throw that knife away before someone gets hurt."

Monroe made a tutting noise. "Dude, you're overreacting. I told you, I don't think I'm all that affected by the pheromones."

"I got a squirrel corpse that says different," ground out Hank. "Now, drop the knife."

Monroe walked towards him. "I think you just need to relax, man. You're getting all hot and bothered for no reason."

Hank's hand tightened on his gun. "Stay where you are!"

Monroe kept walking. "I am, I'm not the one moving, you are."

"Don't make me shoot you, Mon-" Hank didn't get any further as Monroe abruptly woged into his Blutbad persona and leapt at him. Monroe moved so quickly, Hank didn't have time to react. The gun was knocked out of his hand and skittered under the grandfather clock in the corner. Hank grabbed at Monroe's arm and stopped him from plunging the knife into his chest. The trouble was, there were still Monroe's snarling, sharp teeth to deal with. Hank kicked at Monroe's legs, knocking them out from underneath the Blutbad. As Monroe fell to the ground, Hank darted past him, running towards the front door.

"Why did you kick me?" complained an again human Monroe, looking upset.

Hank was trying to get out the door to get to his car and his backup gun. The door was locked though and throwing his weight against the heavy frame a couple of times told him that it wasn't going to let him out easily. Hank spun around, to see Monroe back on his feet, advancing on him.

"Dude," he said innocently, "what's your problem? You're acting crazy."

"You're trying to kill me!" shouted Monroe.

"Why would I want to kill you?" protested Monroe. "We're buds." He raised his knife again and lunged at Hank.

Hank bolted back into the living room, shoving Monroe out of the way and narrowly avoiding the knife blade. Monroe was giving chase as Hank darted around the house, leaping over furniture and throwing things at the other man in an attempt to slow him down. It was quickly clear he wasn't any match for Monroe's Blutbad enhanced strength.

"Dude, what's wrong? Why are you freaking out?"

"You've gone nuts!" Hank shouted at him, scrambling to keep out of his way.

Monroe snorted as he jabbed his knife at Hank and narrowly missed, embedding the knife into the wall instead. "I think I'd know if I'd gone nuts, man."

Hank didn't bother answering, just tried to keep ahead of Monroe and find a way out of the house. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Monroe stumble back over the sofa as he pulled his knife out of the wall. Hank ran up the stairs, managing to get out of eyeshot of Monroe. Now he was faced with the labyrinth of rooms on the upper level of the house. He looked down at his shoes and realised Monroe would be able to track him easily with the squirrel blood on them. Hank ripped off his shoes and socks, then ran barefoot down the halls, looking for a weapon to use against Monroe, or at the very least, a safe place to hide. "This is not how you're going to die, Griffin," he grunted, running for his life. "You're no one's snack." He couldn't die, because he'd promised himself he was going to kill Nick the next time he saw him, for dragging him into this.

That thought was the first happy one of the evening.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N****: And finally, the last chapter. :D **

**Now, I feel I should warn you about this chapter but first of all, a little about me. I work in pathology, so, I routinely handle poo, pus, pee, blood, chunks of human beings – boobs, bowels and a lot of skin, and attend the occasional autopsy. The reason I'm telling you all this is to tell you I've got a high threshold for disgusting things. Nothing really disgusts me... so that means I'm sometimes not sure where the line should be drawn when dealing with bodily fluids/functions and the like with normal people. **

**I just tell you that as a warning about this chapter. If you're easily disgusted, then you may not want to read on. I don't think it's overly offensive... but then, see above as to why my judgement might not to be the best. LOL **

**And with that strange and vaguely ominous warning ringing in your ears, I'll let you read on...**

**Chapter Five**

Nick watched the Luder hobble back to her seat, placing a little leather pouch on the coffee table in front of them, before continuing on to her seat. He leant forward and reached for the pouch. "Is that it, is that the iberis root?" The Luder's cane snapped out and whacked his hand before he could touch it. "Oww!"

"Don't be so grabby, little Grimm," she cautioned him. "We haven't made our deal yet."

Nick scowled and rubbed his hand. "How do I use it?"

"It's a powder, throw it in the Blutbad's face and he'll breath it in. It'll negate the effects of the pheromone."

"And this is definitely iberis root?" asked Nick suspiciously. "I'm not about to poison my friend, right?" His eyes narrowed. "Because if you're trying to pull a fast one-"

"Blah blah blah," said the Luder dismissively. "You'll huff and you'll puff and you'll blow my house down, I get it. I'm not interested in annoying a Grimm." She gave him a cool look. "At least not today. Now, let's talk payment."

"I told you I can pay. How much?"

"And I told you I don't want your money."

Nick's lips thinned. "Alright, what do you want then?"

"I need something only you can give me."

He eyed her warily. "I'm listening."

"Two nights ago I had a run in with a Löwen, it got heated."

"Okay," said Nick slowly. "So, you want me to kill the Löwen for you?" He wasn't sure how he felt about that without knowing more details.

The Luder snorted. "I don't need help killing a Löwen." She jabbed her cane at a spot behind Nick and he turned in his seat to see that the Luder was pointing at a jar of what looked like large, bloodied feline teeth, but he realised must have been the Löwen's.

"Löwen teeth are good for forgetting spells," the Luder informed him, "and dandruff."

Nick turned back in his seat and tried not to think like a cop. "Okay, so, you killed the guy. What do you need from me?"

"He left me with a little something to remember him by." The Luder pulled up her skirt to reveal her legs and thighs.

Nick started in his seat, unable to help his reaction. "Whoa!"

The entirety of the Luder's lower limbs were covered in a shaggy brown fur, not unlike a bears. It was the last thing Nick had expected and it wasn't a pretty sight. The large gash running through the upper portion of her right thigh only made the sight more confronting.

The Luder was eyeing him speculatively. "You're not squeamish, are you? What kind of Grimm doesn't enjoy a bit of blood and guts?"

Nick was having trouble forming coherent sentences. "No, ahh, well, I just wasn't- umm, you know-"

"Shut it, Grimm," she interrupted him in annoyance. "I'm not getting any younger here."

Nick tried to compose himself. "I'm sorry. Okay, you're hurt. Do you want me to take you to hospital?" The Luder's cane snapped out and whacked him across the knees, making Nick jump in pain. "OWW!" he yelled at her, rubbing his knees.

"What are you," she snapped, "some kind of idiot? You're not the Grimm whose parents are brother and sister, are you?"

Nick made a repulsed face. "No," he said hotly, "of course not."

"Then stop asking stupid questions," replied the Luder. "What use could a hospital be for me?"

"I don't know," said Nick grumpily, his knees still throbbing, "maybe stitch you up." He lowered his voice, mumbling to himself. "Shave a few things."

"I don't need a hospital. I already have a poultice on it. I just need something to activate it, to get the full benefit of the remedy."

"Okay, so, what do you need to activate the poultice?" Nick took in the way the Luder was staring at him with a knowing look. "He asks, suspecting he wasn't going to like the answer," he finished in flat resignation.

"I need the fluid of a Grimm," she said simply.

"Fluid?" repeated Nick uncertainly. He frowned. "You mean like blood?"

She smiled, revealing broken and yellowed teeth. "Blood would do very nicely."

"Well, you can't have it," said Nick tersely.

"The Blutbad has been filling your head with malicious lies," said the Luder, looking innocent.

"You're not getting any of my blood," said Nick determinedly. "Forget it."

The Luder gave a little shrug. "Fine. It doesn't have to be blood. Urine is perfectly acceptable."

Nick blanched. "Urine? Are you kidding me?"

She made a bored face. "What interest do I have in making you laugh, Grimm?"

"You want my urine?" asked Nick in disgust. "No way!"

The Luder rolled her eyes. "They don't make Grimms like they used to. I once had a Grimm cut off his toe for me in exchange for a particularly good invisibility potion."

Nick's eyes went wide. "A Grimm cut off his toe for you?"

"He cut it off, I cut it off, let's not split hairs." She gave him a considered look. "Okay, so no urine. There are other options."

"Good," said Nick in relief.

"I'm fine with Grimm seed."

"What?" Nick croaked.

The Luder looked down at Nick's crotch with interest. "Grimm seed."

A lengthy, uncomfortable silence hung between them as Nick resisted the urge to run screaming from the room. Finally Nick blinked. "So, how much urine would you be needing?" he asked brightly.

Her lips quirked. "As much as you've got."

Nick's shoulders sagged, knowing that was the most palatable of what were truly horrible options. "Okay, do you have a jar or bottle or something?"

"It has to be direct."

"What?" She couldn't be asking what he thought she was asking... could she? "Are you asking me to-ah-"

The Luder held his gaze steadily. "Yes. It has to be warm from the body and not contact any other surfaces."

He had no way of verifying that nugget of information and Nick knew the Luder wasn't going to relent on that point. He held up a finger. "One moment, please." He got up and quickly walked out of the room, heading out the front door to the porch. Nick pulled out his cell phone and hastily dialled Hank's number.

**oooOOOOooo**

Hank scrambled into the toilet, slamming the door behind him. Almost immediately the door bowed as Monroe threw his weight against it. Hank spun round and braced his back against the wall of the small room and planted a foot against the door.

"Hey, man, what's the problem, are you alright?"

"You stay the hell away from me!" yelled Hank.

"Was it something I said?" asked the still oblivious Monroe. "Whatever it was, I'm sorry, dude. Come on out and we can talk about it."

"Oh yeah, I'll be right out," said Hank caustically. Suddenly a knife tip came through the door and sliced the side of his big toe. He yelped more in surprise then pain and instinctively drew his foot back.

Monroe took the opportunity to stick his head through the door. Hank immediately slammed his foot back on the door to keep the other man out. Monroe's head remained stuck in the door. He blinked and smiled at Hank. "Oh, hey man, how's it going?"

"Stop trying to kill me!" Hank shouted at him.

"I'm not," said a wide eyed Monroe. "I'm worried about you, Hank, you seem to be hallucinating. Maybe I should take you to the hospital. Come on out and I'll drive you."

"Not gonna happen!" Hank's cell phone rang and he fumbled for it, not taking his eyes of Monroe as the blood-crazy Blutbad started to sniff the air. "Yeah?" he said distractedly, watching as Monroe continued sniffing, his head sliding down the door until he was at the same level as Hank's foot and in particular, Hank's bleeding big toe.

"Oh hey, Hank, it's me," came Nick's overly-casual sounding voice. "Just thought I'd check in, see how you guys are going. I'm guessing it's all okay."

Hank's eyes nearly bugged out of his head as Monroe was now sniffing Hank's dripping toe. He watched in horror as Monroe reached out with his tongue and started to lick his big toe, lapping up the blood from Hank's wound. Hank couldn't let up on the pressure of the door by moving his foot because then Monroe would be able to get in. He was stuck in a toilet, watching a Blutbad lick his toe.

"I bet Monroe is feeling better and doesn't even need the cure now, right?"

"GET THE DAMN CURE!" Hank screamed into the phone. "Sell your soul, eat a baby, I don't care, get the cure and get back here _NOW_!"

**oooOOOOooo**

Nick winced as his partner bellowed into the phone and then there was the sound of scuffling. "Crap," he groaned, knowing that wasn't the sound of happy he was hearing. Nick looked back at the front door of the house and realised he had no option now. He threw back his head and shouted into out into the heavens in frustrated horror. "THIS IS NOT HAPPENING!"

"Oh yes, it is," came the Luder's smug voice from inside the house.

Nick glared in the direction of her voice, even though she couldn't see him. "Bite me, old woman!" he snarled.

"Kiss your Blutbad boyfriend with that dirty mouth, Grimm?" she sassed him.

Nick's jaw hardened as he stormed back into the house. He marched up to the Luder, who was still sitting in her chair, waiting patiently.

She looked up at him in amusement. "What's the matter, poodle, someone steal your sunshine?" The Luder smirked and waved her hand at her wound. "Speaking of golden things, I believe we have a little business transaction to complete."

Nick glared at her in futile rage. "If you ever tell anyone about what happened here tonight, you're going to wish that Löwen finished you off," he ground out.

"Don't get pissy, Grimm." Her lips twitched. "Or rather, do, as it turns out in this case."

Nick's face hardened. "I hate you."

"How will I ever go on?" asked the Luder mockingly. She arched an eyebrow at him. "So, are we doing this or what?"

Five minutes later Nick was speeding down the road back to Monroe's place, the pouch of iberis root powder rolling around on the seat next to him. "Find a happy place," he ordered himself shakily, staring straight ahead at the road, knuckles white on the steering wheel. "Find a happy place." All those books in Aunt Marie's trailer and not one of them could have prepared him for that piece of trauma he was already working hard to repress.

**oooOOOOooo**

Nick, Monroe and Hank sat on Monroe's sofa, all staring directly ahead as the awkward silence between them lengthened. Monroe gave a little sneeze, white iberis root powder shooting out of his nose. He wiggled his nose and then cleared his throat. "So-ahh-can I get anyone a coffee, cup of tea maybe?"

Hank and Nick didn't reply. The scene Nick had walked in on had been impossible to comprehend, so he'd just thrown the iberis powder and decided to ask questions later. Only, he really didn't want those questions answered... ever. The fraught silence continued until Nick couldn't stand it any longer.

Abruptly Hank spoke. "I've got an idea," he offered up, all of them still refusing to look at the other, "this never happened. We don't talk about it, we don't think about it, ever again. No questions, no explanations, nothing. Tonight. Never. Happened."

Nick and Monroe jumped up as one.

"Sounds good to me."

"No argument here."

Hank stood up as they all still avoided eye contract. "I'm going now."

"I'm right behind you," said Nick gruffly.

Monroe held up his right hand, a handcuff dangling from his wrist as he addressed Hank. "Um, I don't suppose I can get this off? I've got a Pilates class in the morning and there will be questions asked if I turn up wearing this."

Hank quickly undid the handcuff, still refusing to look Hank in the eye.

Monroe rubbed his wrist. "I feel like I should repay you guys in some way, for all that you did for me. It was above and beyond the call of duty."

Nick had no argument there.

Monroe looked at Nick. "So, what did the Luder want in exchange for the iberis root?"

"Nothing!" Nick practically shouted at him. "Nothing happened and anyone who says anything different is a dirty liar!"

"Okay," said Monroe slowly. "I'm sensing I touched a nerve."

"We just agreed not to mention it again," said Nick unevenly.

"Oh sure, yeah, sorry, my bad. But I still feel like I owe you two."

"You can pay me back by staying out of my way for awhile," said Hank flatly. "I need some space to get over what didn't happen here tonight."

Monroe made a regretful face. "I get that, man, and again, sorry about the toe thing."

"What toe thing?" asked Nick before he could help himself. He'd walked in on a pants and shoeless Hank sitting on Monroe's chest as he attempted to handcuff the writhing Blutbad to the refrigerator.

"Do neither of you understand the concept of tonight never happened?" asked Hank in frustration.

Nick held up his hand. "You're right, sorry." He started towards the door. "I've got to get home, Juliette is probably wondering where I am."

"She is," said Monroe easily, "and oh yeah, she might have some questions."

Nick turned around and frowned. "Why would she have questions?"

"Juliette turned up here tonight," explained Monroe.

"What?" asked Nick in horror.

Monroe waved a casual hand. "It's alright, I covered."

Hank's scowl deepened. "Yeah, badly." He fixed Nick with a peeved look. "And if she says anything, I wasn't naked, it was only Monroe."

Nick blinked, a million questions flooding his brain but he ignored them all. "I see." He turned around and headed out the door, Hank following behind him.

"Thanks again for everything, fellas," Monroe called out after them.

Hank was by his side. "Does he really not understand the concept of we're not talking about this?" he grumbled to Nick.

"Can't talk," said Nick, staring ahead as they walked to their cars, "finding a happy place."

"Good luck with that, I'm just going to get drunk," said Monroe flatly.

"That's my plan B." Nick climbed into his car and watched Monroe drive off. He turned on the ignition and pulled out from the curb, flicking on the radio at the same time in an attempt to take his mind off the events of that night.

Phil Collin's voice blared over the radio. "Oh, I wish it would rain, rain down on me, oh how I wish it'd rain down on me-"

Nick abruptly braked, not caring he was in the middle of the street and stared in horror at the radio as Phil continued to warble out his classic 'I Wish It Would Rain Down on Me'. He put his head on the steering wheel and took a deep breath before straightening up. "Plan B it is then," said Nick grimly, starting the car and heading towards the nearest liquor store.

There were some days in the life of a Grimm where happy thoughts just weren't going to cut it.

This was one of them.

**A/N****: And that's it, guys, thank you for hanging around to the end. :D Thank you for all of your kind reviews, they were much appreciated. **

**And FYI, it was really hard to come up with that song for the radio bit. LOL I don't know if the joke was worth it, but I went through a lot of songs from 'It's Raining Men' to the 'Pee Pee Song'. Yes, there is a song out there called that. .**

**I've got another little fic for this trio rattling around in my head. If there is interest, I might end up jotting it down. It's more silliness like above. ;) **


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